


Star-Kissed

by Rhapsody the Bard (Rhapsody)



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, Unfinished Tales - J.R.R. Tolkien
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 05:29:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3345305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhapsody/pseuds/Rhapsody%20the%20Bard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Months before tying the knot with her beloved,  Éowyn  is introduced to well-kept tradition of the Gondor nobility.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Star-Kissed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wheelrider](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wheelrider/gifts).



> There are two persons to whom I owe so much. First of all, thank you Red for being so incredibly supportive throughout while RL continued to throw curve balls at me. Thank you for believing in me and helping me.
> 
> Secondly, my sincere gratitude for Solanaceae who edited my story that was finished last minute by me with a flu ridden mind. Solanaceae: you are super awesome and thank you so much. 
> 
> Wheelrider wanted a story with Éowyn and well, she and some other ladies had an idea...
> 
> All mistakes that are left are utterly mine and mine alone.

Never before had she felt anything like this. She was used to coarse fabrics to the most basic dresses, but the dress that her handmaiden started to lace at her back was soft and yet very slippery. The indigo dye reminded her of the star cloak Faramir had placed upon her shoulders long ago. Many months had passed since. Éowyn wondered how it would look like on her, but there was no mirror in these the royal bathhouse nearby where she could study herself. It would not something she would have commissioned herself, and Éowyn reminded herself to send a note to her betrothed once she was back at her quarters. She slipped her feet into the slippers presented to her and draped her long braid on her shoulder, saying, “Thank you, Laerveril. I am ready to return to my rooms.”

“I have other instructions, Milady.” Her handmaiden spoke softly.

“How so? Did my betrothed asked for my companionship then?” That would most certainly explain the lavish gift he had given her.

It is not my place to say,” Laerveril answered and bowed, then stepped aside. A tall guard in an unknown livery to her straightened his shoulders as he motioned forwards.

“This way, my lady.”

Éowyn shot one look at her handmaiden, who kept her head bowed. Surely no information would be forthcoming from her. Sighing deeply, she motioned the guard to show her the way. Surprise was immediately upon her when the guard steered her away from the entrance towards the streets, taking her down a long hallway and through many doors she felt were useless to count. Suddenly her companion stopped, raising his hand to stay her.

“Forgive me, for I, too, have strict orders to follow,” he said apologetically and stepped behind her. And she had to admit: he moved fast and self-assured. Before she could utter her objections, a sash covered her eyes and rendered her without sightless. Nothing was said at first, then she heard the rushing of gowns and the clicking of boots stepping backwards.

“She is all yours now, as commanded.” Two gentle hands held hers, brushing the insides of her wrists reassuringly. Of course, she should have tried to pry answers from her assigned guard who now had taken his leave. “Where are you taking me?” Éowyn tried to turn around, impatient.”

“Tut tut….” And nothing more was said.

The day had started simply enough, with breakfast before returning to her study to Ioreth, if not for the short written note that had commanded her to report to the nobles’ bath house immediately. And of course she had obeyed to it, and all had seemed normal when her own handmaiden had stayed at her side as usual. Now, everything was different - yet, if she followed her instinct, Éowyn also knew that there was no danger around her.

Thoughts of fighting off her captor’s hands had been on her mind for some time, yet a small nagging voice told her to be patient for perhaps a little while longer. She sensed no harm, and her skin had now warmed up to the cold fabric of her dress. It had been a while since she had gone without her visual senses. In Rohan, she had learnt to fight with a blindfold, a method of making sure that warriors could hone their senses for if they should ever fight in the pitch dark. And dark her days had been, but no more. She indulged herself in this strange excitement that grew stronger with every passing second - after all, who knew how impatient her betrothed had finally become, this close to their wedding day.

A few nights ago, they had dined together with the king and queen, her brother and his betrothed, and of course his uncle Imrahil, and a few other relatives. As the wine started to flow more freely and formalities were cast aside, many conversations had turned to tales of the past, of wedding traditions of old and perhaps new. Lothíriel had insisted on hearing her people’s traditions as well, much to Éomer’s amusement. They would make a good match, she had decided. That still did not explain her current situation, though, and she wondered why she had suddenly thought about the events of a few days ago. Surely her soon-to-be sister in law would not be behind it? A soft nudge against her back interrupted her ponderings, and she took a step forward, then another.

The smell of candles burning filled her senses, and a small hint of cold air told her that she was close to either a window or door. “Bring her here.” A warm yet commanding voice came from the left. A woman, Éowyn realised, and she tried to remember someone it might belong to, and soon realised she knew not. Very slowly, the fragrance of her surroundings changed and her toes touched a wooden slate in the floor. Other than the incense she had smelled, she heard a fire crackling and heard how feet moved swiftly across the floor. Éowyn tried to count them, but quickly determined that they must have taken only a few steps since silence soon took over. The room she now found herself in was comfortably warm; the floor was tiled yet not of the same material of before.

“Release her, for no daughter married into our house shall be held captive.”

Our house? Éowyn thought and her mind raced. Soon she would become a member of the House of Húrin, but surely the commanding lady was not one of Faramir’s relatives... or was she? There was a tilt to the way her words were phrased. Even though she could have taken off her blindfold and seen who she was dealing with, she simply remained standing proud, as one of Eorl’s kin would do.

“The minstrels were right.” Éowyn heard how the footfall came closer. “Tall and stern, a true daughter of kings. There is no need for secrecy anymore, my child.” She kept her eyes closed a little while longer after the blindfold was removed. None needed to remind her of her lineage, and the truth would soon be known.

“And more patient than her brother,” the voice chuckled. At that, Éowyn opened her eyes to adapt to her surroundings and drink in the scene. In front of her stood two tall candles with two hooded figures beside them. Boldly, she glanced over her shoulder and saw a robed figure walking in a circle around them. Éowyn gauged that this had to be the lady who shortly before had welcomed her. Even though she only saw the back of her host now, she could see that her braided hair was dark with silver strands, in them and a circlet graced her head. Why the lady was counting her steps in the tongue that she thought was Adûnaic, she did not know. Was she taller than she had anticipated? Time would tell.

“You will find the answers to your questions of late.” The lady spoke once she completed her circle and rose her hands in welcome. As she did so, the dark robe gave way to the dress beneath it: silver and blue: Imrahil’s house. But who was she? Furthermore, Éowyn realised in shock, why was this lady wearing a fillet she had seen described in one of Faramir’s book of lore.

“I can tell you are close to finding out who I am, lady Éowyn. My brother does not call upon me on a whim, but I can see why he did so. I think we will be all in for an interesting conversation.” Éowyn tried to recall the family tree of Faramir’s family, where two of the noblest houses of Gondor had merged together. Yet, much to her frustration, she could not remember Faramir having an elder aunt.

“I am lady Ivríniel,” the woman introduced herself with a gentle smile. “Eldest sister of the current Lord of Dol Amroth. Do not fret so, your husband’s interests have always been elsewhere and nor is there much known of our sisterhood of old.” The elder lady paused, and then continued, “Some of our lore is passed on amongst our wisewomen for long ago men within our house thirsted after wisdom besides the valiant battles fought with steel and horse.”

“Well met,” Éowyn greeted her and politely inclined her head. “And thank you for welcoming me as a daughter of your house.”

Lady Ivríniel nodded and smiled, but now her joy did not reach her eyes. “You are welcome, yet I have been informed that you are also curious about the ways of our kin, is it not? If so, you must learn it all for the daughters that might be born to you.”

Éowyn nodded in agreement, yet wondered still as to why she could not have been summoned directly. Why had she been taken from the baths here, just barely dressed?

“I have heard that you have taken up your studies in the Houses of Healing, learning all you can from our wisewomen.” Ivríniel started to walk towards two chairs that stood near the fire. “Please, sit down with me.”

“I have, and I enjoy it very much,” Éowyn answered and sank down on the cushioned chair. Behind her, two of the present handmaidens moved closer. She wondered why they remained hooded.

“It must be a welcome break from the work you did in Rohan. I have been told that you kept the books of horses, tracing lineages and discussing the proposed covering with the realm’s breeders. Besides the other domestic chores placed upon you.” Ivríniel smiled, and continued. “You have an eager mind, or so I have been told by your charming brother.”

“Oh…” Éowyn answered and wondered what Éomer had orchestrated now.

“And no, he is not the reason why you are here,” her hostess interrupted her thoughts. “Yet I do think one should inform you of our land’s laws, if you should give birth to a baby girl.”

“But I am. Surely my mind is not turned towards these things as of yet, and…” Éowyn stammered, and she knew that her cheeks were flushed in an unladylike manner.

Ivríniel laughed and patted her on her knee. “Faramir is eager, yet very patient. Still, he would not know that much about certain consequences of the law of succession that we had kept as a tradition. For that, I must start at the beginning, leading me to ask if you know of the Lady of the Star-brow, her companions, and her famed daughter.”

“My studies so far have not touched upon Gondor’s history, I’m afraid. Neither did have my childhood tales tell of such a lady,” Éowyn answered and felt small at admitting her shortcomings.

“Well, that makes sense, for you do not have mariners amongst you. Seas of grass, yes.” Ivríniel smiled. “Long ago, on the isle of Numenor, a lady of a lesser line caught the attention of the crown prince. Aldarion and Erendis, do remember those names. Their love grew slowly at first, but steadily, but his unquenched thirst for the sea petered out the fire that was between them. It affected their daughter and only heir as well. For Tar Ancalimë, the laws of succession were changed, and with her other traditions were kept as well. I shall be brief, if you wish to know more the royal archivist will show you the law as it finally became. It was declared in this law within the royal house that the eldest child of the King, whether man or woman, should receive the sceptre.”

“Oh.” Éowyn sat back in surprise. “Is this law still being upheld?”

“Other than Pelendur’s stupidity… yes, in the royal lines, it still is,” Ivríniel answered. “In our house, it has always been maintained. The founder of our house cherished the tradition of his former nation.”

“So should I give birth to a daughter…?” Éowyn started as she worked out such a reality for herself. A daughter, a child of her and Faramir! Would she allow her own child to grow up in a cage with such low expectations of life itself as she had once had? Standing by to serve, even though her beloved uncle had seen much more in her once Gríma’s spell had been lifted.

“She will or can inherit her father’s title,” Ivríniel finished for her. “She can, yet she will be the master of her own fate. Something I have heard you fought hard and bravely for.”

“How so?” Éowyn prompted, wondering what alternative there possibly could be.

“I was born as the eldest in my House,” Ivríniel started, and her gaze rested upon one of the handmaidens. “But in my youth I discovered that my interests lay elsewhere. I simply had no interest in learning how to govern the bay of Belfalas and its people. My younger brother always had shown keen interest in it, and the people love him for it. Yet, together with the law of succession, an order of old found her bearings in this nation as well after the isle of Númenor sank. Known by nobility amongst this realm, it often offered a refuge for those who did not see any purpose in marriage as I did. Yet my fate would be different. I would be wedded not only to a spouse, but to my father’s lands as well. I was sent to what we call the Company of Women to learn a profession to my liking and talents. And with such authority I command them now, having found my home there. Yet it seemed that governing runs strongly in our blood.”

Éowyn’s mind raced, and she studied the lady’s face as if she could offer the answers to her questions. Yet the lady betrayed no emotion, her appearance kind yet guarded. Slowly, she started to discover the shared characteristics other than the eye and hair colour. Imrahil had this same youthful appearance over him still, despite having fathered sons and a daughter. Yet age had touched upon the lady Ivríniel’s face, small wrinkles graced her skin, and slowly the look in her eyes belied the compassion and understanding that both of them carried within them.

“This brings me to the following question: would you be willing to spend some time with us before my nephew steals you away?” Ivríniel smiled. “I know that it will be a few more months before you will finally join your lives together. Perhaps we can teach you some of our own lore, but my goal would be to get you acquainted to us and our ways so that if a daughter were to be born to you, you will fully understand the options placed before her.”

Sitting back, Éowyn placed her hands upon her knees and considered the offer. None had told her of this order of women, and no such thing existed in her homeland. Yet her heart felt glad at its existence: it would offer women the opportunity to be well learnt and have their own apparent authority of their own. Yet it felt as if the order’s presence within Gondor society was kept as a secret. Or perhaps she had not asked the right questions in the Houses of Healing. Ioreth was unwed, yet learned. And the other wisewomen she had encountered here in the city - never before had she considered them to be unwed. Widowed perhaps, but those were assumptions she had made not knowing otherwise. “I would like to know more of your order, yet I do wish to continue my studies at the Houses of Healing as well.”

“Very well,” Ivríniel replied and continued thoughtfully, “As you might have figured out by now, Ioreth was one of us, and she found her calling her in this city, bringing her love with her. You may have encountered her, she is one of the midwives commissioned to the royal house.”

“Ah, Ivorind!” Éowyn smiled. “Yes, we already have met. Are you saying that she and Ioreth are…?”

“Inseparable, surely, from the first. Others may fall in love slowly, but Ivorind simply took her under her wings once Ioreth entered our order. They may not be outspoken about it, but I can assure you their love is genuine. Not only wisdom or a purpose can be found with us, but love as well.”

“For that I am glad, yet I am afraid that I only seek the first two now, for my heart is already taken.”

“Of that I am certain,” Ivríniel replied softly. “Will you at least accept tutorship from one of my companions here?” The lady promptly asked her and rose steadily to her feet. Éowyn followed her example and nodded. “For us, assigning a tutor is a matter we take seriously. Sometimes it becomes clear when people lay eyes upon each other, but for most we resort to a small ritual that has shown its purpose so often. All I ask of you is to close your eyes and open your heart. Let your senses tell you who can teach you the most.”

“Is this really necessary? I have no intent of joining your order, surely a few gatherings would be all that is needed?” Éowyn asked Ivríniel.

“My heart tells me that this is how we should do it. Just close your eyes and trust. Let trust be your guide.” All she could do now was to follow the instruction given. Closing her eyes voluntarily, Éowyn waited for the first of the handmaidens present to approach her. First she sensed a delicate perfume, and the warmth of a body coming nearer. Then the light touch of a hand placed upon hers, causing her to smile. Passively, she allowed her arm to be raised, and her hand was guided to the face of the young woman in front of her. Unsure how to proceed, Éowyn caressed the jaw offered to her and registered the gentle kiss placed upon her wrist.

“Hmmm, interesting. You may leave,” Éowyn heard Ivríniel passing on instruction. She only had to wait a little before she felt the other handmaiden close to her. Clasping her hand gently, she - like the lady before- placed it to her cheek. This time Éowyn felt how the maiden turned her head ever so slightly as if her hand formed the cradle of comfort. Yet, unlike the other, this maiden was bolder as she brushed her sweet lips to her fingertips, then trailed soft kisses over her palm. Unsure how to respond to this sudden sensation that washed over her, Éowyn did not want to pull away from the touch, but neither was she willing to lean into it further. It was exquisite, so unexpected and tender. It was hard to ignore the tingle that ran down her spine. Thusly both stood there for a moment. Neither walked away or were commanded to do otherwise.

“Ah, very telling.” Ivríniel finally broke the silence. “You may take your leave.”

Once the maiden broke her touch and stepped aside, Éowyn barely checked herself from trying to see who had just so intimately touched her. Of course she was curious, but if she were to believe Lady Ivríniel’s words, she would soon find out who her tutor would be. The click of the door told her that the maidens had left, and she opened her eyes to find Ivríniel studying her.

“I think, Lady Éowyn, that you just have been star-kissed.” With a mysterious smile, the Lady Ivríniel curtsied and left her alone to ponder what she just had experienced.

~*~*~*~*~

After she had sent her handmaiden away for the night, she finally had her room to herself. The entire day, the conversation between her and the lady Ivríniel had been on her mind. It was not only the revelation of the order known as the Company of Women, but indirectly the message of her own responsibilities had shown through as well. Of course, she could have felt satisfied with taking up her studies to become a healer. The healer would be just a part of her - yet how she wanted to establish herself as the Steward's wife, a mother-to-be. So far, she had not given it so much thought. The first weeks here, she had concentrated on her recovery and newfound love. Her brother had been busy with Rohan’s future, where he had reserved no place for her. Her future was in Gondor, and she now realised that she could be an influence in shaping her husband’s office. Perhaps her daughter would be interested in becoming the new Steward, who knew. Yet who was to say that her firstborn would be a daughter? There was still so much that was left unknown.

Sighing deeply, she wrapped her robe snugly around her, pondering what she could do before she would retire for the night. Having just closed the door behind Laerveril, she heard a soft sound of shuffling feet at the other side of the door and halted. Patiently, she waited for the knock at the door, and asked herself if she should simply not open the door if someone was outside. Seconds passed, and nothing happened. Was this person still undecided, then? Not in the mood for more games, Éowyn turned around and marched towards the door. With a firm pull, she opened it and stepped into the hallway where, indeed, a hooded figure had turned away and was about to leave the hallway. She recognised the robes from earlier today and cleared her throat.

At that sound, the person stopped and slowly turned around. Of course, the face remained obscured to her. Éowyn noticed that whomever had sought her out was not keen on being spotted here. “If you wish to talk to me or want to make further arrangements, speak of it now.”

“And if not, hold my peace?” The lilt of the voice seemed familiar to Éowyn, but she could not place it. “I know that I am spoken of in many ways, but as you know I did tell your lady that I wished to learn. Yet the hour is late, the halls here empty, and none should roam them unaccompanied.”

“None shall bother one of us, if you must know,” her mysterious guest answered. “Yet allow me to show you why I am here. My heart sings of something unfinished.”

Éowyn stepped backwards as the handmaiden quickly made her way into her warm and safe quarters. Closing the door behind them for privacy's sake, she reached out and grasped Éowyn's hand. "Yesterday your hand cradled my face like this."

Too stunned to reply, Éowyn could now see how the maiden took her hand and placed it against her cheek. To have sensed it with her eyes closed was already an experience, but to now see what her touch did to her newly assigned tutor was another matter. Her hand still cradling the girl’s face, with her other hand she removed the hood of her cowl.

“You…” she gasped and yet could not let go. There was something she saw in Lothíriel’s eyes that made her wonder how she could stir such an emotion in her partner. Lothíriel's eyes were dark with passion, her lips slightly parted as she moved her mouth lightly against Éowyn's wrist. The light kiss made her acutely aware of every move of her brother’s betrothed. Every nuance in the way her lips brushed her skin stirred an unknown desire within her. Where would this take her? Closing her eyes, Éowyn was not sure if she wanted to reveal to Lothíriel what she felt right now: every nerve in her body had started to tingle, and thoughts of where her partner's mouth could go were desperately buried deep inside her mind. Keeping her eyes closed, Éowyn decided to allow herself to feel these sensations. So gentle and tender was the kiss that it felt like the touch of a butterfly's wings.

Moving ever so slightly, Lothíriel removed her hand from her face and pulled Éowyn closer. At last her mouth closed over hers, and it felt so natural that they would share this intimate moment together. She yielded gladly to the lips of the other, causing a ripple of delight spread through her body. Had she been kissed often? No, not of late, and Éowyn knew that she needed to be loved more. Lothíriel kissed her slowly, her lips moving against hers, and Éowyn allowed herself to enjoy what was offered to her. Yet it seemed to not be enough for both and their lips parted, their tongues touched as their kiss deepened. It was hard to describe what she did to her, with her. It was too controlled to express the possessive, yet the carnal dance of mouths, tongues, and breath was tantalising and spoke of so much more. To her it showed intimacy, a deeper need, and vibrated with barely controlled passion in her partner. If she was her assigned tutor, Éowyn knew that she would learn far much more she had bargained for. Yet what hurt could it bring? This was her new chosen life and she had accepted the offer.

“Please stay for a while,” Éowyn invited her. “There is much we need to discuss.”

 

~*~*~*~*~

Éowyn awoke to a tangle of legs with sheets half cast towards the floor. Hours before, they had taken it slowly, both feeling unsure where this new dynamic between them would take them. Next to her, Éowyn spotted her lover’s dark curls in the heap of blankets and sheets. The mound of sheets stirred as Éowyn leaned in closer, and then she saw how Lothíriel’s long and very skilled fingers came up to push sleep-mussed curls back from half-closed eyes.

“What we have shared… it was glorious.” Lothíriel stated with her eyes heavily lidded from sleep. “Do you…”

Éowyn smiled and pulled her partner closer, “Nay, I regret nothing. Your lady said that I was star-kissed, leaving me to wonder what she meant. Yet, if I am to believe what you and I just shared, you will teach me just that.”

“We’re months away from our unions still,” Lothíriel spoke softly, “Yet the lady has asked me to consider my union carefully.”

“Has she?”

“Hmmm, she has a good insight, and knows us all too well,” Lothíriel murmured and looked up to meet her eyes. “I had my doubts, feeling uncertain if I could leave behind my life here. But perhaps it will not be that bad after all.”

“Perhaps not,” Éowyn replied and smiled. “I will come to visit my homelands often when I can. Who is to say what time we can spend together when our spouses discuss their matters. Perhaps something about reaching the stars together?”

“Are you suggesting?” Lothíriel prompted, sitting up suddenly.

Éowyn smiled. “As I said, last night was glorious, and there is much I need to learn still. Consider me your very eager pupil.”

“They did warn me about your strong will and bold nature,” Lothíriel laughed.

“Let us see what these weeks will bring, and what the compass that steers our heart will reveal to us. If this was just a taste of what is to come, I would be a fool to deny myself this,” Éowyn decided as she tried to bridle this passion inside her.

“Come here.” Lothíriel beckoned her as she slumped back down against the pillows. There was no hesitation in her heart when Éowyn scrambled closer, yet she stopped herself short of throwing her into Lothíriel's arms and blushed.

"Oh dear one." Lothíriel reached up to brush fingers across Éowyn's cheek, which just made them burn hotter. “Your second lesson is about to start.” Lothíriel spoke gently, but the command in her words was impossible to ignore. To show her intent, she pulled Éowyn towards her.

Feeling happy and content, Éowyn did not resist, collapsing forward and winding her arms around her lover's neck. Feeling bolder now, she threw a leg over her hip, and buried her face against the warm skin of Lothíriel's neck. Suddenly, fingers were on her chin, and Éowyn thought that Lothíriel wanted to stay her. Instead, she merely tilted her face up until warm lips brushed her own. It wasn’t the first time both had kissed, but it was different when their legs were tangled together. It was so much closer…

“Ooh.” She couldn’t keep back the soft whimper as Lothíriel's fingers splayed about the small of her back, pulling her close. "We have all day still. None wants to interrupt one of us when we are about the Company of Women's business."

"Then show me."

“Shall we start with bedside manners?” Lothíriel suggested and grasped Éowyn’s hand, lacing her fingers firmly with hers.

“Take me to the stars, my Lady of the Star Brow,” Éowyn smiled and knew she had found another safe haven in which she could flourish and be herself.

**Author's Note:**

> Author notes: 
> 
> Ivríniel: Elder sister of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth. Ivríniel was born in year 2947 of the Third Age. She was the daughter of Adrahil II. Ivríniel was the older sister of both Prince Imrahil and Finduilas. The History of Middle-earth, Volume XII, The Peoples of Middle-earth: "The Heirs of Elendil," pages 221-223 
> 
> Want to read more about the laws of succession in Númenor? Please read the tale of Aldarion and Erendis in Unfinished Tales.


End file.
